


something in your mouth

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Captain America, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a curious question.  Peter just had to know, and so he commandeered the camera room with Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> One thing. I will probably shift between Peter’s and Steve/Tony’s point of view during the sexness because it would just be so boring otherwise, keeping it in Peter’s point of view. So don’t yell at me.

It all started with a curious question.

 

“No, but really,” Peter pushes, and Clint rolls his eyes, “You don’t wonder?”

 

“No.”

 

“ _At all_?”

 

“No.”

 

“Awh, Clint, why does Peter look like a kicked puppy?” Bruce says as he walks in, ruffling Peter’s hair.

 

“He wants to know,” Clint pauses to glare at Peter, “Who tops, Steve or Tony.”

 

“Totally Steve,” Bruce says with a nod.

 

“We don’t even know if they’re actually sleeping together!” Clint argues.

 

“Even more reason to investigate!” Peter exclaims at the same time Bruce snorts,

 

“ _Of course_ they are.”

 

“Even if they are,” Clint says, putting up his hands, “I think Tony tops.”

 

“Bruce, wanna investigate with me?” Peter asks, ignoring Clint.

 

Bruce shrugs, “Sure, I don’t see why not.  What time is it?”

 

“Uh, ten oh seven, why?”

 

“Then they’re probably already upstairs.  Make popcorn.”

 

“Where are you going?” Clint demands, watching them warily.

 

“Camera room,” Peter responds cheerily, and Clint sighs.

 

\--

 

After Bruce has overridden the display layer of cameras, each bedroom pops up onscreen.  Peter is cross-legged on the floor wiring the camera of Tony’s bedroom to a bigger screen, and, when they’re both finished, they pull up comfortable chairs and settle to watch.  Tony is currently on his stomach, perched on his elbows while he works on his laptop.  Steve sits next to him, back against his pillows and headboard, reading and rubbing his fingers through Tony’s hair.  This goes on for nearly a half hour, at which point Bruce and Peter are standing and facing each other, Bruce teaching Peter different fighting moves.

 

“They’re moving!” Peter suddenly yelps, jumping around.

 

Steve has disappeared, and Tony is by the desk in the corner of the room, logging off his laptop and putting it away.  He strips out of his sweatpants, leaving them on the floor by the foot of the bed before pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed.  He yawns and pulls the sheets up to his waist as Steve exits the bathroom, undressed to his briefs, as well.

 

“Lights,” Tony says softly after Steve has climbed into bed, and that’s it.  Steve reclines on his back, Tony curls against him, and they sleep.

 

“Well, that’s no fun,” Peter whines.

 

“We’ll come back tomorrow night,” Bruce promises.

 

Peter wants to throw a fit when he walks by the gym and sees Steve working on field combat with Tony the next day because will want to do nothing but sleep afterward.  Bruce laughs when he finds him pouting in the camera room.  “Give it time,” he says, dropping into the seat next to Peter.  Except when Steve pushes their bedroom door open, he’s carrying a soundly sleeping Tony.

 

And so the night is a waste, until Peter wakes from his sleep in the wee hours of the morning with an idea.  After sleeping another few hours, he creeps downstairs and doesn’t wake Bruce.  Steve is just stirring when he flips on the big screen, and Peter settles into one of the comfy chairs in his sweatpants and t-shirt.  He rests with half-lidded eyes, though he’s attentive as Steve stretches.

 

Tony is reclined on his back, arms above his head and cheek resting comfortably against Steve’s.  The blue of the arc reactor shines in the still dark of the room.  One of Steve’s arms is wound around his torso while the other is beneath his head, fingers curled lightly in his hair.

 

Steve mumbles something incomprehensible, turning his face into Tony’s hair and sighing.  Tony smiles, and Peter shifts as he arches off the bed, stretching.  Even as Tony settles, though, Steve rolls, pulling his arm out from underneath Tony’s head.  He perches over him like a predator, and Tony laughs, reaching up a hand to slide over Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Hi,” Tony says softly, blinking slowly.

 

“Good morning,” Steve mumbles, nosing into his neck and leaving a trail of wet, soft kisses.  Steve laughs suddenly, and Tony smirks.  He drops back onto the bed, but his blue eyes are still fixed on Steve.  The super soldier rolls his own blue eyes before sinking his hips down and emitting a soft sigh from Tony.  “Is that what you want?” Steve whispers, switching to the left side of Tony’s neck to nibble on his jaw.

 

“Steve,” Tony says breathlessly as Steve rocks above him, slowly awakening both of them.

 

Peter shifts again, glaring.  The sheets are still drawn halfway up Steve’s back, and he can’t see _anything_.  He blinks, realizing his train of thought, and he moves to shut off the TV when Steve suddenly straightens away from Tony, leaning back on his heels.  Tony’s hard cock is curled up against his stomach, and his chest moves rapidly with heavy breaths.  Steve wraps a slow hand around Tony’s dick, pulling a strangled moan from him.  Peter is frozen halfway to the TV, mouth open.

 

He sits slowly as Steve abandons Tony and looms over him, reaching for the nightstand.  He extracts a bottle of lube, laughing when Tony ruts up against him.  “Stop it,” he commands, wrapping a hand around his hip and forcing him onto the bed.  He looks down at the smaller man, who nods and settles into the mattress.  Steve coats his fingers, and Peter shifts when the sheets drop completely, revealing the curve of Steve’s ass and the finger he pushes into Tony.

 

“Fucking—goddamn it,” Peter grumbles, digging a heel into his groin.  He’s _so_ glad he didn’t get Bruce first because he’s not even really sure how to explain this to himself, getting turned on by watching Steve and Tony, let alone to someone else.

 

Steve works slowly, stretching Tony with his one finger, who pushes down onto Steve’s hand until he commands him to stop again.  Peter swallows thickly; he’s never seen Tony so compliant before, and it’s a little distracting to see him submit like this.  Tony’s eyes rake over Steve’s body, licking his lips every so often, and Peter has to shift a few more times.

 

“Come _on_ ,” Tony finally groans, and Steve smirks, obliging.  Tony’s body curls off the mattress as he adds a second finger, scissors, and adds a third.  Steve doesn’t stop him this time as Tony rocks down onto Steve’s hand, his breathy wheezing out through his nose as he moans softly.

 

Finally, Steve pulls out his fingers with a little _pop_ , and it does Peter in.  He curses, lifting his hips off the chair and pulling down his sweats to his knees.  He locked the door before he came in, and he’s pretty sure the security guys don’t get up for another few hours.  He tries not to think about the fact that he’s getting off to Steve and Tony fucking, but it’s hard, especially considering he can’t keep his eyes off the screen.

 

Steve takes Tony’s hips suddenly, and Peter groans when he pulls Tony high onto his lap, Tony, who grabs a few pillows and shoves them underneath him, who’s back arches regardless when Steve pushes slowly into him.  Peter swears and pulls up his shirt, tucking the hem between his teeth.  He relaxes into the chair, hand stroking over himself quickly as Steve fucks slowly and hard into Tony.  Tony moves with him, desperate, moaning, and gorgeous.

 

Steve suddenly shifts after a few thrusts, bringing Tony’s knees with him, and Peter slides on the chair a little as he presses himself against Tony, picking up his pace.  Tony wriggles, and his knees slip out from underneath Steve, his legs hooking up around Steve’s ribcage.

 

“Steve,” he pants, one hand coming up to fist in Steve’s blonde hair, “Fuck—Steve.”  They kiss hungrily, Steve’s hips snapping into Tony and dragging throaty moans and gasps from both of them.  “Steve.”

 

“Tony,” Steve groans, and Peter huffs out a breath when Steve bites into his shoulder, pushing Tony’s other hand down into the mattress.  Tony grunts and pushes up into Steve, chin drawn back so Steve has full reign of his neck.

 

“God, Steve—faster,” he groans, wriggling again.  Steve puts his other hand at Tony’s hip, gripping him tightly, and he holds him steady as he fucks into him fast and hard, panting against Tony’s glistening skin.  “Steve, Steve,” Tony moans, his fingers tightening in his hair, “Fuck—Steve.”

 

Tony arches, their bodies melding together, and a shake rips from his core as he climaxes, groaning and holding onto Steve tightly.  His breath hitches, and Peter gasps, hips shifting off the chair a little as he splashes onto his stomach, trembling.  Steve’s muffled cry brings his eyes back to the screen, and he rubs his hand over his cock until it softens and is too sensitive.  Peter sits there, breathing heavy, as the two men on the screen find their breath.  Steve kisses slowly around Tony’s chest for a moment or two before pulling out and rolling onto his back.

 

“Hey,” Tony sighs, looking over at him, “Good morning.”

 

Steve laughs.  “Go get cleaned up.  You’ll whine later if you don’t.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, pushing himself off the bed and wandering off to the bathroom.  Steve closes his eyes even as Jarvis pulls back the shades and bathes him in morning light.  By then, Peter knows he should stop, and he searches the room for a towel or something, but he comes up short, and settles for taking off his t-shirt and cleaning himself up with that.  When he finishes, he flicks off the TV, puts the chair back, and heads out with his crumpled shirt in his hand and his sweatpants sagging.  Thankfully, he comes upon no one on his way back to his room where he collapses onto his bed and goes back to sleep.

 

\--

 

When Peter sneaks into the security room the next morning, he’s early, and he tries to convince himself it isn’t because he practically ran down here.  He avoided Bruce all the day before, and said they could skip that night; Bruce had smirked at him.  But now here he is, legs folded underneath him (in a ridiculous attempt to pretend he _isn’t_ going to shift later), and with the TV on.

 

The pair are still fast asleep when the camera flickers to life, and he settles in to wait.  Tony is on his stomach, one arm curled around Steve’s abdomen and his head resting in the crook of Steve’s neck.  Steve has one armed wrapped around Tony’s back, the other splayed above his head; his own face is turned into Tony’s hair.  Seeing them tugs at Peter’s heart, and he frowns.  Ever since Gwen left, he’s felt empty inside, and it hurts to see Steve and Tony, so obviously in love and so obviously comfortable.  It had been such a shock when Steve finally broke to Tony’s charm, but they all knew it had only been a matter of time.

 

Peter straightens a little when Steve’s alarm goes off, and the super soldier reaches over to his nightstand to silence it before turning back and pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead.  He whispers something, and Tony lifts up a little, allowing Steve to extract his arm.

 

Jarvis draws the curtains and says good morning to Steve, who goes over to the wall of glass for a moment before padding around the bed and stooping at Tony’s side to kiss the back of his shoulder.  “Shower?” Tony mumbles, and Steve just kisses his shoulder again.  “Be right there.”  Steve pads off, and it’s only a minute or two before Tony groans and pushes himself up, stretching and yawning.  He, too, disappears from the room, and Peter’s shoulders sag; they don’t have cameras in the bathrooms, for the obvious reasons.

 

When he leaves the security room and heads into the kitchen, Bruce is there.  “Couldn’t sleep?” Bruce asks, already reaching for another coffee mug.  “Or seeing if your friends sex it up in the morning?”  When Peter careens to a halt, Bruce laughs.  “I thought the same, and I was about to go in there.”

 

“They’re in the shower,” Peter admits.

 

“Ah, they’re smarter than I thought.”

 

“Well,” he says, shrugging and palming the back of the neck.  He figures what the hell, “They showered a little later yesterday.”

 

“Did they?  And?”

 

“Steve,” Peter admits, and Bruce chuckles.

 

“I knew it.  But hey, they might change it up.”  Bruce looks over at him, and Peter could swear he saw a glimmer of hope.

 

“Yeah, maybe they do.  We could always investigate more,” Peter tries, and Bruce nods.

 

\--

 

The following day, when Peter and Bruce settle for the night, Steve and Tony are already asleep, and they sleep long into the next morning, long enough that the two get bored and leave.  On the next night, they manage to get in early enough that they’re still awake.  They’re in the position Peter and Bruce first found them in so many nights ago, Steve against the headboard, but Tony is nestled into the comfort of Steve’s arms this time.  Steve has his drawing pad relaxed at the top of Tony’s chin, and Tony looks to be asleep.  However, a few minutes in, Tony makes a noise, and Steve lifts the pad off him.  Tony slips out from under his arms, and Peter swats at Bruce when he flips and straddles Steve’s waist.

 

Steve arches an eyebrow, drawing pad in one hand and pencil in the other.  Tony leans forward and whispers something they can’t hear.  Peter forces himself not to shift when Tony’s hips start to move, rotating over Steve’s groin, as he continues to speak into his ear.  Steve’s hand suddenly drops his pencil while Tony grabs the pad and tosses it to the floor.  In one fluid motion, Steve takes Tony’s hips and flips them, mouth seeking his.

 

“Fuck me,” Tony commands when they break for air, and Steve quickly yanks the nightstand drawer open.  Tony makes a trail of kisses and bites along Steve’s collarbone and chest, and, when the super soldier returns with a bottle of lube, he takes Tony’s jaw in one hand and kisses him fiercely, holding him in place.  His hips grind up into Tony’s body, who groans and moves back against him.

 

“Steve,” Tony begs, pulling away from the kiss.  Steve leans back and rids Tony of his boxers before struggling out of his, lubing his fingers, and driving one inside, bringing Tony off the bed in a gasping arch.  “God—fucking— _Steve_ ,” he moans when Steve slips another finger inside and uses his other hand to ready himself.

 

Peter is having trouble staying still, and he risks a peripheral glance over to Bruce, who has moved the pillow to his lap and is forcefully leaning back into the chair.  Peter thinks he’s losing his mind when he turns his head and says, “I won’t say anything after this if you don’t.”

 

Bruce’s head snaps around to look at him, and Peter raises an eyebrow.  There’s a moment of silence punctuated by Tony crying out before Bruce nods, and they both work out of their pants.  Peter fixes his eyes back on the TV, where Steve is fucking Tony _hard_ , and the smaller man is emitting all sorts of glorious noises.

 

“Peter,” Bruce says after a few minutes, and Peter tries to respond and only manages a grunt.  “Peter, let me fuck you.”

 

His hand stills immediately, and his body goes rigid.  Bruce.  Bruce Banner.  _Inside_ of him.  Peter’s not sure he’s ever moved so fast.  He kicks off his sweatpants, his socks still on, and he pads awkwardly over to where Bruce is sitting, standing before him.  He swallows, and Bruce reaches out a tentative hand.  Peter groans softly when Bruce’s fingers wrap around his straining cock, and he thinks of Gwen.

 

A _pop_ gathers his attention, and he opens his eyes to see Bruce’s glistening fingers.  He nods and he climbs carefully onto Bruce’s lap, straddling his thighs, his knees digging into the back of the chair.  It _hurts_ , and he really can’t understand how Tony enjoys it so much.  He digs his fingers into Bruce’s shoulders, face screwed up, when Bruce pushes a finger through the tight ring of muscle.  He hates the stretching, he really does.  He’s just about to tell Bruce to fuck it, they can just jerk each other off, but then one of Bruce’s fingers curls _just right_ , and Peter gasps, fingers scrambling at Bruce’s shirt for a whole other reason.

 

Bruce smirks, the fucker.

 

Peter rocks experimentally down onto Bruce’s hand like he’s seen Tony do, and Bruce curls his finger again, pad sliding over Peter’s prostate.  “ _God_ ,” Peter says.

 

On screen, Tony’s breath hitches into a scream, and Peter looks over his shoulder.  Steve is looming over him, sweat glistening on his skin, and hips snapping viciously into Tony’s body.  He can see the muscles in his ass tighten as his climax overcomes him, and Peter’s cock twitches against his stomach the same time Bruce takes his hips and slowly lowers Peter down onto his hard cock.

 

Peter bites his lip and swears until Bruce is laughing.  He slams his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder, cursing him into oblivion.  When Bruce is finally inside of him, fully, he stills, rubbing Peter’s back.  “I hate everything about you,” Peter grumbles.  Bruce shifts, and Peter groans, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

 

“Just relax, okay?” Bruce whispers, brushing Peter’s jaw with a kiss.

 

Peter takes a breath, nods, and straightens.  From there, he starts to understand.  He thinks of Gwen and how she used to move, and he mimics her.  Bruce’s head falls back against the chair, and he holds onto Peter’s hips, steadying him and helping him, and, together, they discover something.

 

Halfway through, Peter is bent over, hands braced against the back of the chair and the sound of skin on skin the only noise in the room other than harsh breathing and rough grunts and groans.  Bruce’s hands are bruising on his hips, and he can feel a coil of heat and blinding pleasure building at the base of his spine.  Bruce is close, too, his groans growing gradually louder, and his muscles shifting and tensing beneath Peter.  He can feel everything from this position, chest pressed against Bruce’s, elbows on his shoulders, and foreheads together.

 

“Peter,” Bruce groans, his own hips snapping up to meet Peter’s movements, “Fuck—Peter.”

 

He _feels_ Bruce climax, in the gasp that falls from his lips, the tightening of his muscles, and the sudden scrape of his nails.  It pushes Peter over the edge, and he slams himself back down onto Bruce’s cock, moaning and biting the side of his neck, coming hard and fast between them.

 

Something shifts in Bruce’s shoulders.

 

Peter stiffens, eyes wide, and Bruce curses.  Peter eases himself off, nearly falling onto the floor, and his legs are like jello as he stumbles back.  Bruce desperately tries to calm his breathing and his heart, but it’s no use.  Peter sighs as he hears Bruce’s shirt tear, and he flattens against the wall, trying to make himself invisible.  He remembers Bruce complaining one time about how he hadn’t had sex since the accident, and how everyone had made fun of him until they realized how many years that was.  He should’ve remembered that and refused Bruce’s impossible-to-refuse offer to let him fuck Peter.

 

 _And now I’m stuck with the Hulk_ , he thinks, rolling his eyes.  He waits for a half hour until Hulk is Bruce again, red in the face and staring resolutely at the floor.  “Stop it,” he says to Bruce, taking his shoulder and shaking him once.  Bruce looks up at him, and Peter frowns.  “I don’t really know what this is,” he says, motioning between them, “But I don’t want you to be embarrassed by what you are.  Hey, I broke your Hulk virginity.”

 

“Fuck you,” Bruce grumbles, but he’s smiling, and he and Peter walk back to their separate rooms smiling and chatting.

 

\--

 

“Peter, can I—uhm—now,” Bruce finishes lamely, jabbing his thumb toward the hallway from where he’s hanging in the door.  Peter shrugs and pulls himself up off the couch, excusing himself from his fellow movie-watchers.  It’s been three weeks since their first attempt at sex, and they’ve been meeting in secret ever since, sometimes still in the camera room with the background noise of Steve and Tony.

 

When he gets out into the hallway, he isn’t expecting Bruce to grab his wrist and tug him away from the movie room, his steps fast and light.  Peter struggles to keep up, and, when they finally stop, Bruce pushes him against the wall and slips a hand underneath his jeans.  Peter gasps at the sudden contact even as Bruce finds his mouth and kisses him hungrily.

 

He’s hard almost instantly, rutting into Bruce’s hand, until Bruce pulls away and drops to his knees.  Peter follows him with his eyes; they haven’t done _this_ yet.  When he lifts his gaze again, head falling back against the wall, he realizes where they are and what’s on the TV.  He doesn’t even think Bruce is aware, but the bedroom door to Tony’s room slams open, and a struggling Steve and Tony stumble inside.

 

Tony paws frantically at Steve’s clothes, yanking off his jacket as he kicks the door shut and ripping the buttons open on Steve’s shirt.  “This is a nice shirt,” Steve growls.

 

“I’ll buy you a new one.”  Steve grunts when his back hits the wall, and Peter almost laughs.  He’s fairly certain Bruce has no idea, Bruce, who’s warm, wet mouth just took in _all_ of Peter’s dick, Peter, who is a moaning mess.

 

The clang of metal takes Peter’s attention again, and he watches as Tony yanks down Steve’s pants.  Steve keeps him straight with a kiss, fingers slipping through the buttons on Tony’s shirt.  “Steve,” Tony tries to whine, tries to pull away and drop to his knees, but Steve is firm, holding him still.  He pushes Tony’s shirt off and runs his hands over his chest, shoulders, and back, one hand braced against the reactor.

 

When he pulls back from another kiss, Tony is staring up at him.  “I love you,” Steve whispers, and Tony smiles, genuine and wide.

 

He leans back up and kisses Steve happily.  “I love you, too,” he mumbles.  They share one last kiss before Tony winks and drops down, mouthing at Steve’s cock and dragging all sorts of guttural noises from the super soldier.

 

Peter makes a mental note to thank them.

**Author's Note:**

> Well? You like?


End file.
